


Lady Buttercup and her Witcher

by fanficgirl155



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Cute, F/F, Female Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Female Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Genderbending, Kinda, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficgirl155/pseuds/fanficgirl155
Summary: just a couple of days of the shared journey of Lady Buttercup - famous bard and troublemaker - and her very own Lady-Witcher (if she's aware of it or not)nothing explicit just talks, thoughts and some cuteness
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Lady Buttercup and her Witcher

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea and couldn't stop thinking about it so I just started writing. I don't know where I want to go with this or if I even want to go anywhere so I'll mark this as complete for the moment even though I might add something later (or not - just saying)
> 
> hope you have at least half as much fun with Lady Buttercup and her lady-Witcher as I had ^^

It was raining, again. She had stepped into a puddle, again. Some thorns had made holes into her skirts, again. And no one seemed to be interested in her complaining, again.

Totally drenched and cursing she tried to keep up with the horse her companion was riding upon but soon enough she stumbled, again. The Witcher didn't even look back. It was maddening.

Right now she could have been in a nice inn or tavern her lute ready and maybe even some coin making it's way into her pockets. But no. She was following the Witcher, the White Wolf, out into the unknown, again. While said Witcher all but ignored her presence, again. And did she mention the rain?

No respectable bard would be outside in this weather. Actually no reasonable person would.

Yet, here she was. Soaked and cold and quite miserable to be honest but still following Roach's

footsteps and anxious to never loose sight of either horse or rider.

So they went on for several miles, two lone figures on a long and empty road. One deadly silent but alert at all times and one constantly muttering and hearing and seeing nothing besides herself, her quiet companion and the effects of the weather all around.

It was around nightfall when the rain finally weakened into a soft drizzle and just when she felt it was her duty to remark on the slight change of weather the Witcher turned her mare left off the muddy road and into the even muddier grasslands next to it. No question, no explanation. They both knew she would follow and by now she really didn't have that much of a choice. These roads weren't that safe in bright daylight but by night they definitely were no place a lone woman wants to find herself in.

Cursing she made her way behind horse and rider, as close as she dared to get to the animal for it seemed to have a bit of an ill temper itself. But then again maybe that wasn't so surprising considering the poor thing usually only had the silent and broody Witcher for company. Actually it was rather funny how similar the two of them sometimes were. Well, if they weren't agreeing on ignoring her that is.

Dissatisfied she kicked a pebble in her way and promptly hurt her toe, again.

She had long stopped measuring the time but finally the Witcher stopped and dismounted her mare. Obviously this was the place of their camp for the rest of the night. This slightly less muddy patch of grass beneath a huge oak tree. Lovely.

Still she was glad to finally have a chance for some rest. Not that she would say that out loud. Instead she started to complain about her wet dress and bedroll. How on earth should she get comfortable? Not to mention her poor hurting feet.

The Witcher was ignoring her, again, while she cared for Roach and set up her own bedroll which didn't look half as wet as the bard's. Of course.

Swearing she looked for the driest least muddy spot to find her own resting place but all hope was in vain. Eventually she decided to simply put her things right besides her companion. Not that the Witcher would care anyway.

Unhappy with the whole situation she sat down definitely not watching as the other took off some of her armour.

“Good night. Not that I will have a particularly good night myself but that's what you say, isn't it”, she muttered as soon as there was nothing to not watch anymore. She wasn't expecting a reply and she didn't get one. Except you would count a grunt as one. Which she didn't. Thank you very much.

So she laid down facing away from the Witcher and tried to get at least a tiny bit comfortable.

A couple of minutes later she could hear her companion behind her sitting up and rummaging in her pack and soon enough something heavy but soft was thrown right on top of her. It was the other's own warm coat.

“You're shivering”, was all the Witcher said before she laid down again and everything was silent once more.

Pulling the coat close around her body she smiled to herself and when she was sniffing the fabric a tiny bit to much for it to accidentally no one would know besides the darkness all around.

Finally warm and cosy sleep claimed her almost immediately.

The next morning was as beautiful as mornings can get. A pastel pink sky dotted with soft looking white clouds and warm sunlight making the remaining water drops shine like thousands of little gems.

The most beautiful sight however was the Witcher gently patting Roach's back, a rare soft smile on her face and her white hair artistically illuminated by the sun.

She must have made some kind of noise for suddenly her companion stepped away from the mare and addressed the bard: “If we leave within the hour, we can make it to a small town before nightfall”.

The words on its own were nothing special but during her time travelling with the Witcher she had learned to understand not just what was said but also what was implied and right now it sounded pretty much like the promise of a nice inn, some hot food and an actual bed for the night. What a beautiful day indeed.

Already thinking about the pleasant evening ahead she jumped up grabbed her things and started for the road when the Witcher called after her: “Bard, pack your bag properly or you will delay us later”.

She stopped, turned back and realised with growing surprise that her companion seemed to prepare some breakfast. For two.

That was definitely new. And weird. Nice, but weird.

So she made her way back and sat down next to the other. “You do know I have a name, don't you?”

A grunt was all she got as answer. So typical.

“Can't you talk like a human being”, she asked more teasing than anything else.

“I'm not human”

“Well, point taken, I guess but you know what I mean. Grunting is no form of communication unless you're a pig... or maybe some kind of troll”

“Eat”

“Oh come on! Now you're being difficult on purpose”, but she stuffed her mouth with dried meat and blackberries anyway, “why can't you just call me by my name?”

“It's ridiculous”

What? Seriously?

“Says the one who named her horse 'Roach'”

A grunt. Of course.

“That's it? You're just going to get all silent and broody again?”

“Buttercup. Now shut up and eat so we can leave soon”

She couldn't help but smile through the rest of their shared meal and maybe, just maybe, there was a similar expression tugging at the corners of the Witcher's mouth.

The journey was way more pleasant than it had been the day before and it wasn't just the improved weather that made the difference.

Soon enough the bard had her lute in hand and alternated between singing something well known and composing new songs which of course had the Witcher as their main topic.

It was past midday when they first came across another traveller. A man, tall and thin, clad in stiff looking material in various shades of blue. He gave the Witcher a wide berth coupled with a nasty look but the bard earned herself a polite nod. After returning the gesture and giving the man a parting smile she closed the distance between herself and her companion.

“You know, if we would stay at civilised placed a bit more often my songs could really change your reputation for the better. In fact it's a win-win situation for if the people knew you a bit better they wouldn't have to prolong their travels just to give you a berth and you wouldn't feel like an outsider where ever you go”

As expected the Witcher didn't say anything. Not even a grunt.

“Come on. We both know you heard everything I just said”

A few seconds passed without any response but finally the Witcher turned her head and looked down at the bard. Her face perfectly expressionless but her yellow eyes seemed softer than usual.

Still her voice was harsh as ever when she replied: “I like my reputation how it is” and after another moment she added: “no unnecessary talking”

Thank you very much.

Obviously that was it from the Witcher's side but Buttercup was determined not to let this go so easily. In fact she had waited for an opportunity like this. To finally address her companion's allegedly non-existent feelings.

“Despite what you may think, I am not an idiot. I can see that it hurts you when villagers call you an abomination, when the serving girls are too afraid to serve you or when the men try to chase you from the village after you helped them. I know. And I understand. Everyone would be hurt by things like that. It's normal. It's human. And no matter what you have been told or like to believe, at least part of you is still human. You don't deserve their disdain and hatred. You know that... right...?”

She trailed off looking up to the other, expectantly, only now realizing they had stopped moving.

No reply. Just those yellow eyes looking at her with an expression she hadn't yet seen in them.

“Geraldine?”

The silence continued and somehow it was more expressive than any answer the Witcher could have given her. It was heartbreaking.

Just when the bard opened her mouth again to say something the other spoke, low and without any tangible emotions in her voice, but her eyes never left Buttercup's own.

“I don't think you're an idiot”

Then she turned away and spurred Roach on to follow down the road.

What?

Not expecting this reply at all Buttercup blinked a couple of times but when she had processed what had been said the Witcher was already several meters ahead.

“Not the point I was trying to make!”, she called after the departing figure, “but thanks anyway”, she added softly to herself.

The rest of their journey was uneventful. They met some more travellers but none of them made as much of a difference between the two women as the first one had, usually they just avoided both of them. Not that their opinions really mattered to either of them. Obviously.

In the end the sun was just touching the horizon when they saw the narrow houses and wide roofs of the small town they were trying to reach. Forgetting all her tiredness and poor, sore feet the bard ran ahead of her companion. She could all but smell the nice, warm tavern food and feel a soft bed beneath her. All but.

In truth the town was crammed and smelly and from everywhere suspicious and hostile glances were thrown their way. At least nobody said anything. Or shouted. Or threw stones.

At the first tavern they reached they were told the house was >full< even though it certainly didn't look that way and Buttercup was sure had she been alone, they would have welcomed her with open arms.

Well, their loss.

The second tavern on their way was smaller than the first but at least they were allowed to enter with little more than some suspicious glances directed their way and after the bard announced that she would perform tonight in exchange for some hot food for herself and her companion the owner seemed satisfied enough.

After paying for their room – in advance, of course – the Witcher disappeared upstairs while the bard tuned her lute and introduced herself to the other patrons present.

It was a good night. The people were generous with both their praise and their coin. The food was good and plenty. Even the presence of a Witcher in their midst did not dampen the mood and after a few rounds of >Toss A Coin< even the serving girls seemed to relax around their unusual guest.

So it was definitely a good night.

When it was time to put her lute away, thank the crowd and bid them goodnight, the bard was tired but still she couldn't stop smiling. It had been a while since she had had any audience – besides the Witcher that is and from her she wouldn't get any feedback anyway. And no, grunts still didn't count.

The room they were given was of average size, very plain and contained in addition to a small basin for washing only one bed. This wasn't unusual and it certainly wasn't the first time the two women had to share a bed but it was the first time for quite a while and somehow it felt as though this was important.

Strangely unsure she touched the bedding – soft and warm against her skin – before she turned to her companion. And stopped.

The other was halfway through removing her outer tunic and the thin undershirt clung snugly to the well-trained body beneath.

Oh my...

“You gonna sleep in this?”, the Witcher's voice pierces her admittedly wild running thoughts. With a slight blush she hastily turned away, cleared her throat and replied: “How could I ever go to bed wearing more dirty clothes than you do?”

As expected this earned her an obligatory grunt.

A few seconds later she could hear the ruffling of the blankets and knew her companion was already in bed.

She knew this was far from the first time this scenario had happened but tonight the thought of the other woman waiting for her in bed made her giddy from head to toe.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded herself.

Tonight wasn't any different than all the other nights before.

Except maybe it was.

Without looking in the other's direction she removed her own slightly mud-stained dress and slid into bed wearing only her undergarment.

A moment later the room went dark as the Witcher put out the candle that had illuminated it previously.

The darkness finally gave the bard the courage to face her companion.

“Good night”, she murmured, not expecting anything in return – besides maybe a grunt.

Therefore she was very surprised when the other actually replied: “Night”

She couldn't help but smile. Maybe tonight really was different. Maybe...

“Sleep”, the Witcher disrupted her thoughts again.

“How do you know I wasn't?”

“I can all but hear you thinking... And I can see you staring at me”

Right. Witcher-night-vision.

Embarrassed and blushing she turned her head away.

“Sleep”, the other repeated and maybe that was the best thing they could do right now.

It was several minutes later when the Witcher spoke again, softer and way more quiet than before and Buttercup couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't really meant to hear.

“Not that I would've minded”

Well, a good night indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> btw here is a rough sketch of how I imagined my Lady Buttercup:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/fanficgirl155/art/Lady-Buttercup-849023422


End file.
